Ian Stigliani

Sunday Morning Tea

(Note: even though the emotions would normally run high during a conversation between a husband and wife that included such honesty and openness – as will be found in this play – the actors are to play it more low-keyed, only allowing the pitch to rise near the end of the piece. This isn’t American trailer park drama.)

The play starts in darkness. Then a spotlight clicks on, illuminating the Wife, seated center stage. She stares off ahead of her and begins talking.

W:    The child was going to eat the cat. (pause) Monopoly is best played with a knife. (pause) Spiral notebooks fall apart in the wash. (pause) Dead mice make yummy early morning beverages. (Longer pause) I think I’m pregnant. (beat) Oh God I think I’m pregnant.
H:     (off) What’s that, honey?

Lights up full, immediately illuminating the entire stage. We discover that the Wife is seated at a table, sitting across from her Husband. They’ve finished eating breakfast and the Husband is reading the newspaper. They both are wearing pajamas, robes and house slippers.

W:    I’m sorry, what?
H:     I thought I heard you say something.
W:    I did? No I didn’t say anything.
H:     Did you want to read the paper?
W:    No.
H:     Then why don’t you go get a book.
W:    What book should I get?
H:     Whatever book you want.

The Wife gets up, exits left.

H:     (Calling off) Try the new one I got you. It’s over on my desk.

The Wife enters, holding a huge hardcover book. She seats herself again. The Husband continues to read, his paper up like a wall, blocking the couple’s view of each other. The Wife continues to stare into space.

H:     (Not looking up) How’s the book?
W:    What? Oh, the book’s fine, thank you for getting it for me.
H:     You’re welcome.

Pause. The Wife flips slowly through a few pages, closes the book.

W:    Would you like some more tea?
H:     You just poured me some, thank you.
W:    I’d forgotten.
H:    You’ve been preoccupied this morning.
W:    Have I?
H:    Yes you have.
W:    I think you’re right. I am preoccupied.
H:    That’s too bad.
W:    I’d like to tell you something.
H:    Uh-huh.
W:    It’s going to be hard saying this to you, but I think it’s for the best.
H:    Whatever you want to say I’m ready for.
W:    Do you really like the tea?
H:    I do. It’s delicious, honey. It’s a new blend, isn’t it?
W:    Yes, I suppose it is.
H:    What did you want to tell me?
W:    Oh. I caught a mouse this morning. In the kitchen.
H:    Oh no, I hope it didn’t scare you.
W:    It did at first, but, well, it was really kind of funny.
H:    What was?
W:    The mouse, he’d--I guess while he’d been running around on the stove last night, he fell into the big spaghetti pot.
H:    Really?
W:    Yes. I found him in it this morning. I guess he couldn’t get up the sides of the pot to escape.
H:    That is amazing.
W:    How long do you think he tried to get up the sides of the pot before he gave up?
H:    I don’t know. Maybe a while. Maybe not that long. I guess it depends on the mouse.
W:    He wasn’t moving when I found him this morning. He was just sitting there. Maybe he tried all night long to climb up the sides of the pot and just couldn’t do it. All night long. Did you hear any noises last night?
H:    Only the television. But you would know about that, wouldn’t you, honey.
W:    I thought I heard something, but I thought it was you.
H:    So what did you do with the mouse?

Pause. The Husband folds the paper down to look at his Wife.

W:    I’m sorry, what?
H:    I said, what did you do with the mouse? Did you let it go?
W:    No. I didn’t. I filled up the spaghetti pot with some water, about half way full.
H:    Uh-huh.
W:    He seemed to wake up and then paddle around in it for a while. Like a little mouse swimming pool.
H:    Uh-huh, that’s nice.
W:    Then I put the pot on the stove and turned on the flame.
H:    You wanted to warm up the water for him. It’s no fun to swim around in the cold, is it honey?
W:    No it isn’t. It took about five minutes for the water to start simmering. And then another five minutes for it to start boiling. I didn’t put any salt in it, that’s why it took so long. He really tried to climb up the sides of the pot, then. He tried so hard. I could hear his little claws scratching against the metal. And his little squeaking. Then his eyes bulged and they popped out. And he stopped struggling. (pause) I left the pot boiling for another ten minutes. (pause) Do you really like the tea, honey?
H:    I do. It has a nice pungent aftertaste.
W:    I’m glad. I’ll have to get some more next time I’m at the market.
H:    Speaking of market, did you get my figs?
W:    No.
H:    Did you call the mechanic like I asked you to?
W:    No.
H:    What about the shag rug? Is maintenance coming tomorrow?
W:    For the green?
H:    No, obviously for the orange.
W:    No.
H:    Did you cancel my subscription to the Reader’s Zeitgeist?
W:    Zeitgeist?
H:    Digest. I meant Digest.
W:    No.
H:    Honey, what’s the problem? Is something wrong?
W:    I’m pregnant.

The Husband puts down his paper again.

H:    You’re pregnant?
W:    Did I say that?
H:    I thought you did.
W:    No, darling, you must have been hearing things.

The Husband turns back to his paper, again blocking the couple’s view of each other.

H:    That would be funny, you being pregnant.
W:    What do you mean?
H:    We haven’t slept together in over a year.
W:    Has it been that long?
H:    Maybe a year and a half. You shouldn’t have gotten so fat the way you did.
W:    Is that the reason why I’ve been sleeping on the couch?
H:    You blimped out. What else could I do?
W:    I thought it was just so I could fall asleep watching television.
H:    Have you been to the doctor?
W:    For what?
H:    To see if you’re pregnant.
W:    Do you think I should?
H:    I don’t know; there might be something going around.
W:    What do you mean?
H:    Well, there’s this co-worker of mine at the office, her name’s Melanie. Nice girl. Sweet, pretty girl. She was coming to work one day, coming up the elevator with some people. Everything’s fine, no problems, she’s not pregnant or anything, and then the second she got off the elevator, she was pregnant.
W:    It was that fast?
H:    She must’ve caught it from someone on the elevator. And she’s always real careful, beefs herself up with Vitamin C and the Echinacea. Always wearing a scarf. She was telling me that she thinks someone coughed on her.
W:    I can’t believe it’s that fast.
H:    Yup. Maybe you should go see a doctor.
W:    I think you’re making things up just to play with my head.
H:    You’re right, honey, I am. That never happened.
W:    See, I told you.
H:    You were always so smart.
W:    Honey, there is something that I’d like to tell you.
H:    What’s that?
W:    Oh, I really shouldn’t say. You’d just get angry at me.
H:    Now, honey, that’s not fair. You know I’ve always wanted us to have a completely open and honest relationship.
W:    Well…
H:    You know that, honey. So tell me.
W:    Okay. You remember last Christmas?
H:    You mean the one when your father went after me with the baseball bat?
W:    (Thinking) No, that was the Christmas before last Christmas.
H:    Oh, you’re right, of course. Go on, dear.
W:    Well, you remember what you got me for my present?
H:    It was the bowling ball, wasn’t it?
W:    Last night I couldn’t sleep. Seinfeld was on but I wasn’t really interested in watching it. So I turned it off.
H:    That’s good, honey. It’s always wise to shut off appliances when you’re not using them.
W:    You’re right, dear. So I sat on the couch for a while, staring off into the darkness. Then I got up and went to the closet and scrounged around inside.
H:    What were you looking for?
W:    I don’t know.
H:    That’s silly.
W:    I guess it was. But then I found the bowling ball you’d given me.
H:    You’ve never even used it, you know? I took note of that.
W:    Didn’t I use it once, one night with you, after you beat me up?
H:    That wasn’t the bowling ball present; that was the golf club present. That was for your birthday. Honey, you’ve got to remember these things. You’re going to want to tell our grandchildren these stories one day. So what did you do with the bowling ball?
W:    I picked it up and walked into the bedroom to ask you a question.
H:    But honey, I was asleep. You know how I hate being awakened at night, especially on my day off. That’s really very inconsiderate of you.
W:    You didn’t wake up. You were sleeping on the bed, with the blue cover tucked around your chin. I stared at you in the darkness for while. Do you know what you looked like?
H:    Fabio.
W:    You looked like a big, blue mouse. A giant, blue sleeping mouse.
H:    That’s weird.
W:    Then I climbed up onto the bed and watched you some more. I watched your big blue nose twitch about in the darkness. I watched your blue pointy ears shift about once in a while. I watched your whiskers move just a little bit every time you breathed in and out. Just in and out. I watched the slits where your eyes were closed.
H:    You remember, honey, I’m not a mouse.
W:    Then I put my fingers into the holes of the bowling ball. I had to squeeze them in.
H:    It was because you got fat.
W:    I lifted the bowling ball up over your head. It was so heavy, and I think my fingers were bleeding, but I held it there over your head for as long as I could.
H:    If I knew you were that strong, then I’d let you take out the garbage cans by yourself.
W:    I’d like to go bowling tomorrow night, when you get home from work.
H:    You know that’s impossible, honey. I don’t take you out anymore. And besides, Monday’s the night I have sex with Tabitha at the hotel. There would be a conflict.
W:    You’re right, of course. I just thought it might be nice to go out. Honey, can I ask you a question?
H:    Of course, honey. You know that I’ve always put forth that our marriage should be based on openness and honesty.
W:    You’re right; I keep forgetting.
H:    It’s because you’re not very smart, honey. You remember, you were dropped on your head as a baby.
W:    I don’t really remember that.
H:    Well, of course you don’t. How could a baby remember being dropped on its head?
W:    It must have hurt.
H:    I imagine so.
W:    Did I tell you that I was dropped on my head?
H:    No, honey, I just made it all up. (pause) That was just a joke. Of course you told me, right after our first date. You said that your father dropped you on your head.
W:    I just don’t remember.
H:    Put your hand on your head and feel around.

The Wife puts her hand on the top of her head.

H:    No, further back, follow your scalp to the back. Do you feel it?
W:    Is that a bump?
H:    A bump? It’s a huge lump.
W:    I can barely feel anything.
H:    Well it’s there.
W:    It feels so small.
H:    It’s not. It’s huge. It’s a huge lump on the back of your head where you were dropped.
W:    I just don’t really feel it.
H:    It’s there, I’m telling you. I remember feeling it all the time in the beginning--you remember--when we used to make out in the back of my Plymouth? And then later on when we had sex. That was another reason why I stopped sleeping with you. That lump just made me sick to my stomach. I can’t believe you can’t feel it. Turn your head. Turn your head. I can practically see it from here. It’s like some horrible deformity.
W:    Maybe my daddy never really dropped me on my head.
H:    Oh, he dropped you alright.
W:    But maybe instead of dropping me, he hit me, really hard with his hand or his fist. Do you think that could have happened?
H:    Your father was never abusive.
W:    How do you know?
H:    He told me so. Call me trusting, but that’s just the way I am.
W:    I still don’t feel it.
H:    It’s there, honey. I wouldn’t lie to you.
W:    No, of course you wouldn’t.

Pause.

H:    What did you want to ask me?
W:    It’s going to sound silly.
H:    I don’t mind silly.
W:    Do you still love me?

The Husband folds down his paper, looks intently at his Wife.

H:    What kind of question is that?
W:    It’s just a question, that’s all.
H:    It’s not even worth an answer. I’m astonished.
W:    About what?
H:    That after all these years you still have to ask me such a question. It’s like there’s something really wrong with you. Sometimes you can be such a trial.
W:    I’m sorry, honey. Sometimes things get very fuzzy for me.
H:    I guess I need to be understanding, especially with your condition.
W:    You mean my lump.
H:    Yes. Your lump. You know, if you keep forgetting theses things, then I can come up with a solution. If I have to I’ll dig up your old x-rays and tack them to the bathroom mirror, so you see for yourself, every day, that there’s something wrong with you. I can do that. They must be in the closet with all the other junk. It may be good for you. What do you think, honey? Should I dig out your x-rays and hang them in the bathroom?
W:    No, honey, you don’t have to.
H:    Do I always need to tell you that I still love you? Do I? If you remember correctly, I don’t bring Tabitha here anymore and have sex with her in the bedroom like I used to. I understood your position. Now I take her to the hotel. Doesn’t that spell out very clearly what my feelings are for you?
W:    I guess so, honey. I’m sorry.
H:    You should be. You know how important Sunday mornings are to me. It’s the only time that I get to feel like a family. You know how important that is to me. I’ve told you how my parents did this, too, every Sunday, just read the paper, have a nice breakfast, some coffee and tea, and just be together. Is that too much to ask? Must I constantly drudge up the past? Must I? If this continues, honey, then I’m going to be forced to take you to see Dr. Spindlebaum. Now, I know you don’t like going to see Dr. Spindlebaum. He can be kind of rough, I know. I’ve seen him, especially when you get out of hand.

The Husband stands up, crosses to a small table with a telephone.

H:    But if that’s what you want, if that’s what needs to be done here, then tell me. I’m leaving it up to you, honey. Tell me what you want to do. I’ll make the call. I’ll get dressed. I’ll get my hat and coat and take you down to Dr. Spindllebaum’s. It’s up to you, honey. You tell me. I’m waiting.

Pause.

W:    I guess you’re right. (Touching the back of her head.) I do feel the lump now. It must have been hidden in my hair, but I do feel it now. It feels so big. And it hurts too. It still really hurts. You’re right, I do forget a lot of things. The lump makes that happen. I can feel it getting in the way of my brain.
H:    Everything would be just perfect if it wasn’t for the lump on your head. I’ve told you a million times that it’s not you that’s the problem, it’s your lump.
W:    You’re right. It’s all because of my lump. Oh honey, I wish it would go away. I just wish the horrible thing would go away and never come back.

The Husband crosses back to the table, sits down.

H:    Now, honey, there’s no point in getting upset. I’ve told you, this is the way things are. Wishing things weren’t the way they were is all just a waste of time. Honey, if you don’t pull yourself up by the bootstraps once and for all, I’m going to have to send you back to the hospital. Now, I know you don’t like being locked up. I for sure don’t enjoy telling people that my wife is locked up in a hospital ward. How do you think that makes me feel? Tell me. Do you think I like being stared at by the people I work with? Honey, you know, you can be so insensitive to my problems. Your little lump on your head is nothing – nothing – compared to my problems.W:    Maybe they can cut it out.
H:    Cut what out?
W:    The lump. Maybe I can go and have surgery on it, to take it away.
H:    How’s that possible? Honey, the lump is sitting on top of your brain. It’s coming out of your brain. Do you understand?
W:    But there’s got to be some surgeon that can do it, a really good surgeon.
H:    This isn’t a TV show. There’s no doctor hot-shot that’s going to swing in at the last moment and rescue you. You will always have your lump. Always. And if you don’t accept the facts as being the facts, then I may have to take drastic steps.
W:    What are you talking about?
H:    I may have to file for divorce.
W:    Oh no, honey, you wouldn’t do that.
H:    And why wouldn’t I? You and your lump have made my life miserable, absolutely miserable. I’ve tried the best I can to be a pillar of support, but even Hercules isn’t strong enough for this situation. So tell me, honey, are we going to have a nice, pleasant Sunday morning, or is there going to be a problem?
W:    Uh…
H:    You know what? I have an idea. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier. It would’ve made things a whole lot easier on us. Sometimes I wonder if I’m the one that has the lump on my head.
W:    What is it, darling? What are you thinking about?
H:    It’s very simple. Matter of fact it’s so simple we can do it with our eyes closed.
W:    What are you talking about? You’re getting so excited.
H:    You’ll get pregnant. You’ll have a baby. Maybe two babies. Then you won’t be so clingy all the time, expecting time and attention from me. Having kids will keep you busy. Maybe we’ll have three kids.
W:    A baby?
H:    Yes. It’ll bring us closer, too. It doesn’t mean we’ll have to start sleeping together again, but we’ll have a real bond then.
W:    A baby.
H:    It will help bring us together. And once you have the baby, you’ll forget all about the lump. Maybe if things work out, I won’t see Tabitha every Monday night, but instead see her every other Monday. I’m not promising you anything. We’ll see what happens. How does that sound?
W:    Okay.
H:    Good. Now we can just go back and have a nice, relaxing Sunday morning together.
W:    Okay. Darling, would you like some more tea?
H:    That’s exactly what I’d like, some more tea. And how about one of those muffins you made last night?
W:    Darling, can I tell you something?
H:    Of course, honey. You can tell me anything.
W:    I just want to thank you for sticking by me. You’ve been such an important part of my growth. Without you…
H:    Without me you’d be in the streets somewhere.
W:    That’s right. Without you I’d be in the streets. Thank you again. And honey…?
H:    Yes darling?
W:    (Staring into space.) I love you.

Pause.

H:    (Absorbed in newspaper.) What’s that, honey?
W:    I’m sorry, what?
H:    I thought I heard you say something.
W:    I did? No I didn’t say anything.
H:    Did you want to read the paper?
W:    No.
H:    Then why don’t you go get a book.
W:    What book should I get?
H:    Whatever book you want.

Lights slowly fade to black.

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